Page 87 of One Last Shot

“Interesting,” Axel said.

Oaken set down his guitar.

“You got a chorus for this song?”

He picked up his notebook. “Words.”

“Hit me.”

Oaken made a face, then read out his notes. “He’s a reluctant hero, a cowboy with no choice, caught between his demons and the love he can’t ignore. With every step he takes, the stakes get higher... For the woman he loves, he’ll face the burning fire.”

“Sort of on the nose, but again, it’s a Western, so maybe that’s what the audience wants.”

“I’ve been staring at the same blank notebook forabout three months. This is the best I’ve got.” He dropped it onto the carpet. Leaned back. “I sort of thought coming out here might clear my head, help me feel the song, the words. And... at least now I have a tune. And a start. But...”

Axel came into the room. “But?”

“Both Goldie—my manager—and Seraphina said something to me. They told me to stop hiding.”

“From what?”

He looked at Axel, and the word just bubbled out. “Shame, I think.”

“So, God, then.”

Oaken narrowed his eyes. Drew in a breath. Picked up his guitar. “Maybe.”

Silence passed between them.

“Ever feel like you don’t deserve the life you have?” He didn’t know where the question came from, and he picked out a tune, his gaze on the paper.

“All the time, dude. I should be dead, at the bottom of the Bering Sea, fish food.”

He looked up at Axel. “What?”

“Long story, but yeah, I cheated death, and there are some nightmares. But I try to make it right every day. Sometimes, however, I don’t.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Like losing that driver a couple days ago. Haunts me.”

Oaken nodded. “Yeah. I’m sorry I couldn’t get him out.”

“You saved Ashley, armed with nothing but your bare hands, so I think maybe you need to let that go.”

“Back at ya.”

“Right. So, what’s the life you don’t deserve?”

Oaken put his hand over the strings to silence them. “This life. This career. I sort of fell into it... and I feel ungrateful for not being gratefulfor it.”

“You’re not?—”

“Okay, yes, I’m grateful. But I’m also... I feel trapped, I guess. And that burns through me, because everything I have is because of what Hollie built. And I inherited it.”

“Hollie?”

“My sister. Hollie Montgomery.”

“She was your sister? I loved her albums. So tragic.”

He nodded. “Yeah. But if she hadn’t died, I wouldn’t be where I am today, so that’s fantastic.”